


Accord

by SorchaR



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Talk of cannibalism, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-06
Updated: 2013-05-06
Packaged: 2017-12-10 13:21:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/786479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SorchaR/pseuds/SorchaR
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One more take on what might happen when Will realizes that Hannibal is the Chesapeake Ripper.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Accord

**Author's Note:**

> These are the TV versions of the characters, but I'm going with the book version of how Will figures out Hannibal is the killer he's looking for.

When Will realizes that Hannibal is the Chesapeake Ripper, he's standing in Hannibal's office.

He's idly wandering around the room, looking at this and that, waiting for Hannibal to come in. So quickly that he can't even follow his own thought process, he sees the truth, and he sags, clutching at the nearest piece of furniture for support. He turns as Hannibal enters the room, and when their eyes meet, they both _know_. 

"I have to go," Will says, though he knows he's not going anywhere. He turns and makes for the door, but before he's even halfway there, Hannibal is behind him.

"I had hoped we would not come to this, Will," says Hannibal's voice in his ear. There's the sting of a needle in his arm before he can turn around, and then his vision fades.

*****

He awakes to find himself in a hospital bed, the kind medical supply companies rent to the families of old people who are still valiantly struggling to keep them at home. He's also in four-point hospital restraints.

"How do you feel?" Hannibal asks. He has a cup of water with a straw in it, which he holds to Will's lips.

It means something that Will drinks without hesitation, but he doesn't know what, not yet. "Stupid," he replies, still muzzy. "I should have figured this out a long time ago. But then, you're terrifyingly smart."

Hannibal shrugs elegantly and settles into a chair beside the bed. "Your attention has been focused elsewhere," he says diplomatically. "I hope the injection has not left you feeling ill."

"Actually, I haven't slept that well in a long time." It's only half a joke. "What did you use?"

"A blend of my own making." Hannibal reaches up and strokes Will's hair back from his forehead. "So. What do we do now?"

"I don't know," Will confesses. His mind wanders for a moment, then he blurts, "Wound Man. That's how I knew. I saw it on a table."

Hannibal thinks about that a moment, then nods slowly. "That makes sense. You do have startling leaps of intuition." He's still petting Will's hair, and Will has no idea what to do with that. "A lapse in judgment on my part, I suppose, to leave it out."

"It's not something most people would pick up on," Will replies, feeling the need to be diplomatic as well. "Why haven't you already killed me?"

"I was going to. I have a little linoleum knife - you know the sort, with that vicious little curve and hook at the end - in my desk. I reached for it, but instead I took the syringe." Hannibal tangles his fingers through Will's hair. "I have, on occasion, had to...sedate patients, and I've learned to keep something on hand."

"A rag and a bottle of chloroform would be a little unprofessional," Will agrees. "God, this is surreal."

Hannibal hmms, though Will's not sure if it's in agreement. "If you were to somehow escape now, or if I were to release you, what would you do?" 

Will thinks for a moment. "I don't know," he confesses. "I know what I _should_ do, but I don't think it's what I would do. I know it's not what I would want to do."

"Why not?" Hannibal gazes at him steadily. "Be aware, I will know if you lie."

Will doesn't doubt it, and his answer is prompt and certain. "Because I don't like thinking about my life without you in it."

Hannibal nods. "There, you see? That is why you are not already dead." He smiles ferally. "To tell the truth, I have thought about eating you many times, but I realized that I would rather have you alive."

Will's head falls back onto the bed and he laughs a little. "Thank God for charm school," he says. A thought occurs to him and his stomach turns over. "Oh, Jesus fuck, Hannibal, you've fed me human flesh."

Hannibal chuckles softly. "Not just you."

Will closes his eyes with a groan. "I don't know whether to be glad that you didn't single me out or sad that I'm not special."

"You are special, Will, never doubt that. It's why you're still alive." He leans down and brushes his lips softly over Will's.

For a moment, Will is still with surprise, then he leans up into the kiss as best he can. It's only a few seconds, soft and fleeting as a half-lost memory, but when Hannibal raises his head, everything is different. 

"Do you want to be released?" Hannibal asks. "From the restraints."

And Will knows that there's a reason he's so specific. "Yes. From the restraints."

Hannibal reaches for the nearest cuff and smiles.

*****

Much later, they're drowsing in Hannibal's bed when Will's mind returns to their conversation from earlier. "So, um, a small request...no more Soylent Green?"

Hannibal pinches his side. "You must not be so picky," he says, but then he sighs. "I suppose there's no point in feeding you something you won't appreciate."

"Good way to look at it. And uh, if you ever have occasion to feed my dogs again, can you please stick to beef or chicken?" Will cranes to look over his shoulder. "Bad enough you think I'm made of meat. I don't need them getting any ideas." 

"As long as you insist on buying that disgusting dry kibble that no creature should have to eat, I make no promises." Hannibal bites Will's shoulder softly. "I will give them what I have on hand."

Will knows he should be freaking out on several levels right now, but there are so many to choose from, he wouldn't even know where to begin. Besides, there's no point. He has a hell of a juggling act ahead of him; there are still a lot of other killers out there, and Jack's not going to stop asking for his help any time soon. Losing his shit now would only distract him from figuring out how he's going to make that work.

Anyway, at the moment he's too fucked-out to do anything but lie here half-awake while Hannibal pets him like a favorite cat. 

So there's that.


End file.
